The Blake Adventures: Family Ties
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Set three months after Johnny, Jean and Lucien adjust to a new baby in the house amidst all the other difficulties and changes in their lives, including, as usual, solving the murder of a strangulation victim.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blake Adventures: Family Ties**

 _January 1966_

"Valerie," Lucien said sharply, making his daughter pause with her hand on the doorknob. "You know you're not supposed to disturb your mother," he reminded her.

The five-year-old took her hand away and turned. "I just want to go see her," she said in a small, sad voice.

"I know, darling girl. But Mummy is very tired and needs to rest."

"She's always tired."

"Well, she just had a baby. It's tiring work. She and Johnny need to rest."

"Was Mummy like this when I was born too?"

Lucien didn't quite know how to fully explain to his daughter, but he did his best to keep things in abstract. "No, but you were born differently than Johnny was," he told her, not wanting to go into too much detail surrounding the emergency cesarean section he himself had performed to save his wife and son. "And Mummy is much older now, so being pregnant was a lot more work," he added.

Valerie's little brow furrowed in slight confusion. "Oh."

"You go downstairs and watch television for a little while. Just not too loud. I'll talk to Mummy and see if maybe she can come have lunch with us later, alright?"

That plan seemed acceptable to Valerie, so the little girl brushed past her father and went down the stairs. Lucien went to the closed bedroom door and knocked softly before entering.

"Jean, darling," he called gently. "May I join you for a little while?"

A quiet moan came from the bed. Lucien took off his shoes and climbed on top of the bed to lay beside his wife. She immediately turned and nestled herself right against him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"The same," Jean replied weakly.

Lucien's heart absolutely ached for her. After being in the hospital recovering from surgery for weeks, they'd finally gotten to bring Jean and Johnny home. But the trauma of it all and the rapid hormonal change had sent Jean reeling. It had been three months since they'd brought their little Johnny Blake into the world, and while he was a perfect baby—though very small from his premature delivery—Jean had yet to adjust back to motherhood of a newborn. She was exhausted and depressed all the time. Some days, like today, she couldn't even get out of bed. Lucien did his best to manage everything around the house, but it was difficult looking after Valerie and Jean and Johnny and his patients and working as police surgeon.

It also didn't help that their household had gone through so many changes. Both Charlie and Mattie had moved out in the three months since Johnny's birth. Charlie and Rose had moved to Melbourne together; he'd been promoted in the state police and she had gotten a position at a news magazine. Mattie was still living in Ballarat, for the time being, but she was now renting a place closer to the Ballarat Teachers College, where she was working as head of the campus nursing center. She came to visit the children on weekends, but Lucien was finding it difficult to no longer have her assistance at the house.

"It's nearly lunchtime. Would you like me to bring you something?" Lucien asked softly, rubbing soothing circles on his wife's back.

"Is it really so late already? You should have gotten me up!"

"You just rest, darling," he replied.

But Jean shifted, sitting up in bed. Her head felt woozy and far too heavy for her body. She brought her knees up to her chest and let her head rest on her forearms as she hugged her legs. "I need to look after the children." Her voice was muffled.

"It's alright. I gave Johnny a bottle about an hour ago. He's perfectly happy in his nursery, but I'll check on him again in a minute. And Valerie wanted to come up and see you, but I sent her downstairs to let you rest. You need your rest, Jean. Your body needs to recover."

"I don't think my body is the problem anymore," she replied sadly.

Lucien sighed and gently kissed her cheek. "I know, my darling. I know."

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the telephone ringing downstairs. Lucien gave her one more soft kiss and got up to answer it. Jean knew she needed to get up and do something with her day. She knew it, and yet she still couldn't quite bring herself to make a move. The crippling sadness that lay like a weight around her neck seemed to only leave her while she slept. And so she slept as much as she possibly could. She wanted to be with her children. She wanted to cook for her family. She wanted to hold Johnny in her arms and feed him from her breast, and she wanted to read stories to Valerie and make her new clothes from fabric purchased months before. More than anything, Jean wanted to feel like herself again, to feel like a proper wife and mother and not this failure she had somehow become. Lucien had told her to be patient with herself, since the pregnancy and the surgery and the recovery was all quite a shock to her system, and as a doctor, he might know. But knowing rationally that she needed to give herself time was very different than what she felt every moment of every day for the last three months.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened again. Lucien returned to her side, but put on his shoes instead of getting back onto the bed for a cuddle. "I'm so sorry, Jean, I've got to go. Frank called, there's a body behind the Gold Rush Pub."

"Of course. You go, love," she replied. "Don't worry about me. We'll be fine here."

"I always worry about you, Jeanie, but I also know that you'll all be fine. But if there's anything you need, just call the police station and they'll get ahold of me."

"Thank you."

And with that, Lucien dashed out of the house. Jean wanted to fall back into bed and pull the covers over her head, but she knew she shouldn't. But she also wasn't quite able to get up. So she sat there, paralyzed and staring unseeingly at the wall.

A while later—Jean wasn't sure how long—a knock came at the door, followed by the muffled sound of "Mummy?"

Jean was jolted to reality and heard the noises emanating from outside her bedroom. She was up in a flash, shoving her feet in to slippers and throwing her dressing gown on as she opened the door. "Yes, sweet girl?"

"Mummy, I'm so sorry, Daddy said not to bother you and you need your rest, only Johnny started crying and I didn't know what to do and I tried to shush him but he just kept crying and I'm sorry Mummy!" Valerie blubbered. Her words were hitched with the sobs she tried to suppress and she was blinking back the tears shining in her shockingly blue eyes.

"Shh, it's alright, Valerie, everything's fine. You did just the right thing," Jean said soothingly, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"But Daddy said you need your rest."

"And I do," Jean conceded, "But you and Johnny need me to be your mum. So let's go see what your brother needs, eh?"

Jean took Valerie's little hand and walked down the hall to Charlie's old room, just across from Jean's old bedroom, which was now Valerie's room. Sure enough, baby Johnny was wailing his tiny head off. And in some strange way, it made Jean smile.

"Come here, Johnny," she cooed, reaching into the bassinet for her infant son. "What's wrong? What can Mummy do?"

Johnny just kept crying. She didn't like seeing her son distressed, certainly, but his cries meant he was alive and his lungs were strong. Being born so early, literally ripped from her body to save them both, Jean still worried about him. She worried about all her children, still. Christopher and his family travelling all over the country wherever the army stationed him. Jack doing god knows what in god knows where. Valerie growing up with parents who were old enough to have grandchildren of their own. And now Johnny, the last of Jean's children, this beautiful little Blake that she and Lucien had created against all odds and their own better judgment.

"Does he need his nappy changed?" Valerie asked.

"Yes, he does." Jean could feel the dampness where she held her son. She carried him over to the changing table. "Valerie, would you like to help?"

"Okay, Mummy."

"Alright, please get a clean nappy from the drawer over there, and wet the flannel in the bathroom for me," Jean instructed. Again, she smiled. Her little girl was frightfully clever and always eager to learn and assist in whatever way she could. And having any assistance in caring for a baby was rather new to Jean. She'd cared for her first child on her own while Christopher was hard at work on the farm. Christopher Jr. had been too young to help when Jack was born. Mattie, being a nurse, was able to do things for Valerie without needing instruction. Jean rather liked being able to teach these things to Valerie now. And with the way she'd been feeling, she needed all the help she could get.

Jean went about cleaning Johnny and putting a fresh nappy on him, explaining each step to Valerie as she did it and answering all her questions. By the time they were finished, Johnny had calmed down, and he was back to being the sweet, happy baby he usually was.

"Shall we all have some lunch now?" Jean asked her children. Only one of them—the one old enough to speak—answered in the affirmative. But Johnny's little smile seemed to indicate his agreement.

A part of Jean hated the idea of going downstairs and cooking a meal while dressed in her pyjamas, but she didn't want to go through the hassle of getting properly dressed. She'd barely managed to get out of bed before noon. This was the best she could do for today.

Their luncheon was made with relative ease. Jean and Valerie talked and sang songs while Jean did the cooking and Valerie sat with Johnny nestled in her arms. Jean took over holding the baby while they both ate their sandwiches but gave him back to Valerie when it was time to clean up. At one point, Jean looked over to see Valerie gently stroking her brother's golden curls and murmuring softly to him, and Jean began to cry with the beauty and perfection of the scene she witnessed. Had the phone not rung again, she might have devolved into a sobbing mess.

"Doctor Blake's surgery," she answered, clearing the lump from her throat.

"Hello my darling, I just called to check in on you. How's everything going?" Lucien asked.

"We're all doing just fine here. Valerie helped me change Johnny's nappy and then we all came downstairs for lunch. We were just finishing when you called. How are things on your end?" she asked her husband.

"I'm in the morgue with Alice. She sends you her best. Our victim was strangled, poor chap."

"Oh how awful."

"Yes. He didn't have any identification on him, but Peter found a wallet in the bins beside where the body was found, and Frank did the death knock. Man by the name of Winston Hicks."

"He used to work at the butcher's years ago. Did deliveries for me here when your father wanted to host a dinner party. I haven't seen the man in years."

"Well, he's lying on a slab in the morgue now."

"He was married, wasn't he? Had two sons?"

Lucien smiled. Leave it to Jean. She had a memory like no other. Hadn't seen the man in years but still remembered his family. "Yes, sons John and Timothy. Wife Meredith."

Jean hummed, vaguely remembering the Hicks family. "I'll leave you to it, then. Thank you for calling. Will you be home for dinner?"

"I imagine so," he replied. "Shall I pick up something on my way?"

"I think I can manage. But thank you," she said softly. The consideration of her dear husband still surprised her sometimes. She was quite lucky, she knew.

"Alright, I'll see you later, darling. I love you."

Jean smiled. "I love you, too." She hung up the phone and felt an unfamiliar lightness within her. Maybe everything would be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucien hung up the phone and regarded the victim in front of them. "Alice, anything of note?" he asked.

"Bruising forming around the neck where he was strangled. Handprints, as you already suspected. But there's also bruising on the right hand, here," she pointed out.

Taking a closer look, Lucien saw that Winston Hicks had some discoloration on his knuckles.

"These are much older, though. Injury probably occurred a few days before death, based on the coloring. There's been some healing," Alice continued.

"Our Mr. Hicks got into a fight a few days ago. Any other evidence of it?"

"No, actually. I looked for that. Just the hand there."

Lucien nodded. "So not so much of a fight as it was Winston Hicks gave a rather mighty punch or two to someone who either didn't or couldn't fight back." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I'll go to the station and speak to Frank, see if they've had any reports of anyone being beaten in the last few days."

Without another word, Lucien hung up his lab coat and hurried out of the room, leaving Alice to mutter something that sounded like, "Yes, I'll just do the rest of the autopsy on my own, that's fine."

Frank Carlyle was doing paperwork at his desk when Lucien showed up unannounced, as he often did. "Blake, what have you got for me?" the Chief Superintendent asked.

Lucien gave a quick rundown of the findings thus far and ended with asking, "Have you had any reports of assault? Anyone with injuries from a fight? Someone who didn't fight back?"

"Crowe!" Frank called, ushering the young constable over. "Check to see if anyone matching that description has made a report lately."

"I'll check back at the pub in the morning to see if the barkeep knows of anyone," Lucien added. "Whoever Winston Hicks gave that walloping to would have good motive to strangle him at their next opportunity, especially if it was when Hicks was too inebriated to properly defend himself. I'll have Alice run his blood for alcohol levels."

"Wouldn't it be better to go now? When the pub's open?" Peter suggested.

Lucien shook his head. "No, the barmen will be too busy to talk to me. And besides, I need to get home to my family before dinner," he replied.

Frank smiled. "How are Jean and the children?"

"Everyone's fine," Lucien lied. In truth, he had no idea how Jean might be faring. She'd had a devil of a time the last few months. She had seemed in good spirits when he called at lunchtime, but there was no way to know if she'd had another of her depressive episodes. Lucien didn't like being out this long. Valerie was still very young at only five years old, and Johnny was so very small. Lucien would never admit that he worried about his wife's ability to care for their children, but the depth of her anguish was quite concerning.

He hurried back to the house and announced his presence when he opened the door. Immediately, he was greeted by thundering little feet. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" came his daughter's sweet little voice.

Valerie leapt into his open arms. "Hello, my darling girl!" he said, kissing her rosy cheeks. "How's your day been, Valerie?"

"We had so much fun, Daddy! Mummy and I had lunch, and then we played with Johnny. He still can't talk yet, but we made him laugh! Come see!"

Lucien put Valerie down to let her lead him into the parlor. He found Jean in her dressing gown and slippers sitting on the floor with baby Johnny lying on his back on a blanket, waving his little arms and legs all over the place.

"Daddy, watch!" Valerie cried excitedly, sitting beside her mother and leaning over her brother. "Bonjour, Johnny. Bonjour, mon petit," she cooed.

Johnny heard the French and let out the sweetest little gurgling giggle. Lucien couldn't help but laugh along with him. "Would you look at that?"

"The French makes him laugh, Daddy," Valerie explained.

Lucien knelt down and gave it a go. "Mon petit fils, tu es si beau, si charmant. Nous t'aimons beaucoup," he said, delighting in Johnny's hysterical laughter. Lucien reached down to let Johnny take his fingers in those little baby hands. He looked over to Jean, noticing that her face shone with tears amidst her beaming smile. "Alright, darling?" he asked quietly.

"Oh yes. I just feel like my heart might burst with love," she answered.

He gave her a quick kiss on her damp cheek. "I know the feeling."

After another minute or two of watching their children, Jean announced, "I should get dinner on."

"What can I do?" Lucien asked immediately.

"Spend some time with your children. Johnny isn't due for a feed for a little while. I thought I could give it a go after we eat," Jean replied.

Lucien nodded. He recalled how important it was to Jean that she breastfeed Valerie herself. She hadn't had the opportunity to do so with Johnny as much as she would have wanted. Anytime she was able, Lucien wanted to be sure she could. But they had plenty of formula otherwise. Their son certainly had not suffered in the least.

Jean hauled herself off the floor and made her way to the kitchen. Lucien remained where he was, playing with Johnny and Valerie. She was quite a loquacious child. Both Jean and Lucien encouraged her curious spirit, doing their best to treat her with patience and respect in answering all her unending questions and cultivating her voracious learning. Much of Johnny's personality hadn't quite developed yet. But already he was very different from his sister. He hardly ever cried, unlike Valerie. And also unlike Valerie, their boy seemed to be constantly moving. Jean had noted that he was much more active in the womb than Valerie ever was. And now that he was out in the world, their Johnny Blake seemed to constantly be kicking his chubby legs and grabbing at anything and everything with his baby hands. Lucien was never quite sure, though, what was just Johnny and what might be typical for a baby boy. He'd never had a son before. He didn't know what to expect. Jean was well-practiced, of course, but Valerie had been her first daughter, and she'd always seemed to know just what to do. At least they had each other. Jean and Lucien leaned on one another to raise their children. And in many ways, that was quite new for them both.

Meanwhile, Jean was in the kitchen, trying her best to boil potatoes and roast a chicken and sauté some veg. Perhaps it was just hunger or perhaps it was this horrific form of baby blues she couldn't seem to get over, but Jean felt like she was on her last leg. She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her dressing gown and took some slow, deep breaths. But this was just dinner. She could handle dinner. Surely she could make a simple meal for her husband and daughter. And then she could sit and relax and feed Johnny. That always made her feel better. Getting to nourish her son from her body was a gift Jean certainly did not take for granted. It had been her very favorite thing about Valerie's infancy, the way she could bond with her daughter and the way Lucien seemed so enthralled by the whole thing. She wanted that with Johnny. Her baby boy born so small, nearly too soon. Jean knew she was far too old for nearly all of this, but those precious things she desperately hoped to keep hold of. The things she could still do.

But perhaps she couldn't still do this. Jean was able to stumble over to the chair at the kitchen table to keep herself from falling to the floor. And with the last of her strength, she called for Lucien.

He was in the kitchen in a flash. "Yes, Jean, what is it?"

"I think I need to go back to bed."

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. He went to the stove and turned off the burners. "I'll handle this. It's no trouble. But let's get you back upstairs, alright?"

"I need a bit of a rest before I can make it up," Jean admitted shamefully.

"Not a problem. Come here, love." Lucien pulled her chair out and put one arm under her legs and looped around her waist with the other. He lifted his slender wife without much effort and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. Gently, he deposited her down onto the bed. He untied her dressing gown and peeled it from her body. He put her things to the side and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Rest, my darling."

Jean whimpered rather pathetically and pulled the bedsheets over her shoulders, rolling onto her side with her eyes closed. Lucien watched her for just a moment before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Valerie was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Is Mummy alright?" she asked with concern.

"Mummy's just tired."

And Valerie sighed, just as she had earlier in the day. "Mummy's always tired," she grumbled.

Lucien took her back downstairs. They ate a barely passable dinner that Lucien bungled only minimally; Valerie was used to Daddy's cooking by now. They sat at the kitchen table eating in silence. Valerie was pouting, missing her mum. Lucien wasn't sure what to do to make her feel better. He held Johnny in one arm while eating with the other. There wasn't much else he could do.

After dinner, he put Johnny in the crib for the time being. Valerie helped him with the washing up. She even corrected his washing technique, telling him more than once that he missed a spot and that Mum wouldn't allow the dishes to be put away looking like that.

"Valerie, I'm going to go check on Mummy and feed Johnny. How about you practice on the piano for a little while? I'll come back down and help you later, alright?"

She nodded obediently and went to sit at the piano. The sound of scales and chord exercises made him smile as he made his way upstairs.

"Jean?" he called softly as he opened the bedroom door. "Jean, are you awake?"

A muffled groan came from the lump in the bed that Lucien knew to be his wife.

"I brought Johnny up. If you want to feed him. Otherwise, I'll give him the bottle."

That got Jean's attention. As much as she barely felt able, she sat up and reached out for her son. Lucien helped prop her up with pillows as she unbuttoned her pyjama top and took Johnny in her arms. The baby took her breast without hesitation, and Jean exhaled with the feeling of relief she always got when she could feed.

"Good," Lucien murmured. He lay beside her on the bed, watching their son have his supper.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet boy," Jean whispered, tracing his wispy blonde curls with her fingertip. "I wish I could do more for you."

"You're doing everything you can, Jean," Lucien assured her.

"Am I? It's never been like this for me before, Lucien. This is my fourth child. And the only one I can't seem to take proper care of."

Lucien sat up and looked at her very seriously. "Jean, you look at that boy in your arms. Is there anything wrong with him?"

"No."

"Is he an unhappy child?"

"No."

"Does he want for anything?"

"No."

"As his mother, you know that. And as his father and as a doctor, I certainly know that. Jonathan Thomas Blake was born seven weeks early, but he is absolutely perfect. We made two perfect babies, Jean. And I know you want to do more, but my darling, you are fifty years old. And your body and your hormones have gone through a trauma that most people would not have survived, frankly. You are doing the best you can, and you are doing everything right. When you need rest, you rest. When Johnny cries, you feed him and change him. When Valerie needs her lunch, you make her a sandwich. No one is neglected."

"But you're running yourself ragged with all this, Lucien. The only reason Valerie and Johnny aren't neglected is because you are!" she interrupted, her voice hitching as she tried not to cry. "I am your wife, and I am supposed to be taking care of you."

"And when I need you, you do take care of me. But I am your husband, Jean, and that means that I have the duty to take care of you, too. And we are both parents, and we are both sharing the burden and blessings of caring for our children. I promise that everything's alright."

Jean swallowed hard, still trying to hold back her tears. "You know it's been four months since we've made love? I can't even remember the last time. I was pregnant and it probably wasn't very good," she lamented.

"We always had very good sex while you were pregnant. And when you weren't. Which is how you got pregnant," he joked and he was rewarded by little strangled laugh from Jean's lips. "By the way, I am sorry I didn't manage to get you anything for today. I meant to, but I didn't want to be away from home too long, what with the case."

"What do you mean, get me anything for today?"

Lucien knew very well that Jean hadn't looked at a calendar in quite some time. Which was why he didn't want to make a fuss. But since they were vaguely on the topic of their love life, he explained, "Today is our anniversary. We've been married for six years today."

Tears fell unchecked from Jean's eyes. "Lucien, I forgot our anniversary!?"

"Shh, it's alright, we've been a bit busy. We can celebrate when you feel better. Perhaps for Valentine's Day, we can have a belated celebration, alright?" he placated.

But Jean just kept crying. Johnny had finished eating, so she buttoned herself back up and put him on her shoulder to burp him, crying all the while.

"Please don't be upset, Jean," Lucien begged. "Shall we talk of something else?"

Jean quieted a bit, still feeling absolutely rotten but not wanting Lucien to feel guilty for upsetting her. Really, it was her own fault. She'd worry about that later. Jean sniffed back another hitched breath. "Tell me about Winston Hicks."

"Strangled. But older bruises on the knuckles of his right hand."

"He was in a fight?"

"No other wounds."

"He obviously won the fight."

Lucien chuckled slightly. "That's the angle I was think as well. I've asked Peter to check any recent assaults, anyone that may have been Hicks' victim and therefore may have had motive to attack him outside the pub."

Jean frowned, thinking as she patted Johnny's back to settle any bubbles in his belly. "I don't think you'll find anyone that way. If Hicks beat up some poor person without getting any wounds in return, perhaps it was someone too weak or too ashamed to fight back. Which might mean they wouldn't have reported it. I think you might be better off seeing who Hicks worked with. My memories of him were of a rather scrawny man working long hours for a rather heavy-handed boss. Hicks may have learned the same management style, once he was older and stronger."

At that moment, Johnny spit up a bit onto the flannel Jean had thrown over her shoulder for this very purpose. "I'll take that," Lucien offered, wiping the baby's face and taking the soiled towel. He leaned over and kissed his wife square on the mouth. "And you are a marvel. An absolute marvel."  
A small smile appeared on Jean's lips. "Well, it's our anniversary. What's more romantic than discussing a murder case between kisses?"

Lucien laughed and kissed her again. "No way I'd rather spend the evening."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: M-rating for the end of this chapter**

"You were right, Doc. All four of the lads who worked for Winston Hicks got roughed up by him one time or another. Jimmy Norton's got a black eye from Hicks. Probably the cause of those bruised knuckles, yeah?"

Lucien nodded at young Peter. "Most likely, yes. We'll want to interview everyone."

Peter nodded. "Norton's in with the boss now. Hobart is talking to another employee, Charles Thrope."

"And the other two?"

"Timothy Hicks and Henry Hicks. The younger son and a nephew. I'm going to pick them up now. They're at the warehouse."

"I'll go with you, Peter. I'd like to have a look around, I think."

Peter took Lucien with him in the police car out to the warehouse owned by the deceased Winston Hicks. Two young men were stacking crates. Both were extremely built for their work, tall with strong muscles. Lucien could immediately see that these were not men who would be unable to fight back if tossed around by their boss.

Lucien walked around, keeping out of the way. Peter introduced himself to Timothy and Henry and explained their purpose. "I'll need the two of you to come down to the station, please. We have a few questions about your boss, Winston Hicks."

One of the young men protested, "But we're the only ones here. We got work to do. We can't just close up. Boss wouldn't like it."

"Your boss is dead, which is why we want to have a talk with you," Lucien added bluntly. He watched very carefully for the reactions he provoked.

But to his surprise, another voice answered, "I'm their boss now. And I wouldn't like it if all my employees were gone and missed deadlines. But in the interest of assisting the police, we can close up for an hour or so. Provided you let Jimmy and Charles back as soon as your done with them. And you are almost done, aren't you?"

"I can't make any promises, sir. This is a murder investigation," Peter said politely yet firmly.

Lucien stepped forward. "And you are?"

"Johnny Hicks. And you're investigating the murder of my father," he said coolly.

The name threw Lucien for a moment. This man shared the same name as Lucien's own son, and there was a flash in his mind of the horrific possibility that his Johnny could share the same fate as Johnny Hicks one day, mourning his father.

Timothy and Henry finished up their task and got their things so they could accompany Peter to the station.

"I'll make my own way back, Peter," Lucien said. "Mr. Hicks, might I ask you a few things, since I'm here?"

Hicks just shrugged his shoulders. "You want a coffee? I've got some in the office."

Lucien followed the man and took a seat before accepting a cup of stale coffee. "Thank you," he said politely.

"I guess you want to know about my dad, eh?"

"I was hoping you could tell me about him. I didn't know him personally, but my wife remembered him."

"Your wife?"

"Jean. Apparently your father used to deliver to her from the butcher many years ago."

Hicks nodded. "He did all sorts of odd jobs here and there before my uncle let him run this place. Henry, my cousin, his father used to own it before he got too sick to manage it."

"And now you run it?"

"Yeah, I guess. Henry doesn't want anything to do with it. He's a big kid. Likes lifting heavy things but doesn't have much brains otherwise."

"How was your father as a boss?"

"He was a bully. To everyone," Hick answered roughly.

"He gave Jimmy Norton that black eye," Lucien recalled.

"Yes. We all got one from time to time."

"Even you? And Timothy and Henry?"

"Especially Timothy and Henry. The three of us were all raised properly, Doctor Blake. You respect your parents and your boss. You don't talk back and you certainly don't hit back. Jimmy got it a bit worse the last time because he didn't have the same values as the rest of us."

"He did hit back?"

"He tried to," Hicks said darkly. "But he's not very big, and Dad just laid him out with that punch to the eye."

Lucien was quiet for a moment, thinking. He took a sip of the terrible coffee and tried not to retch. "Mr. Hicks, do you know who killed your father?"

"Yes."

The calm admission was a bit of a shock. "Why haven't you told the police?"

"Because we're all better off now. My mother even thanked me. He never hit her, as far as I know, but he was a mean bastard and made her life hell for years. And now that he's gone, business will be better and we won't have to worry," Hicks explained, surprisingly calm.

Lucien tried to be as subtle as he could, looking for a means of leaving the room and getting to a phone before Hicks did something to silence him. He needed to stall. He needed to come up with a plan.

Hicks noticed Lucien's wandering eyes and leaned forward, pleading, "I can't go to jail. I have to protect my mother and my brother. We need this warehouse."

But Lucien shook his head. "You waited till your father was stumbling drunk out of a pub and strangled him. No matter what your reasons, that's not defensible."

"I don't care if it's not defensible! It's the truth! Everyone needed to be protected from him, and I'm the one who did it! I shouldn't be punished for that!" Hicks stood suddenly and slammed his fist on the desk in frustration.

Lucien stood up as well and held his hands in front of him, trying to keep Hicks calm. "There's nothing to be done, Johnny." His throat nearly closed up to use the name. But he tried to push through. "You know I've got a son named Johnny? A little boy. He's three months old."

Hicks looked at Lucien curiously. "You take care of him? You treat him right?" The man's voice was shaking. He knew it was all over. Lucien could see it all over his face, accepting his own fate.

"Yes," Lucien replied. "He nearly wasn't born. But he's alright now. He's healthy and safe. He's a happy baby. And his mother and I, we love him more than anything. I've never had a son before."

"You got other kids?"

"Two daughters. And I love them all. And I want to be a good father to them. I want to teach them to be strong, not by forcing them to survive under my roof or under my hand, but by supporting them and showing them they will always be safe with me. No child should fear their father. No man should ever have to do what you did to protect his family. But I will tell you, Johnny, I will do whatever it takes to protect my family and to make sure I can stay with them."

And Johnny Hicks broke. He collapsed back into his desk chair and began to weep. Lucien knew he was subdued now, didn't pose any threat. He went to the telephone and called the police station for backup to arrest Hicks. When he finished, he put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. Hicks looked up at him. "Will they let me talk to my brother? Timothy will have to run the warehouse now. He'll have to take over. And he's not ready yet. I want to…I want to help him make sure it continues alright. So he can take care of Mum and everyone else."

"I'll make sure you get the chance to talk to him," Lucien replied softly. Hicks just nodded.

The police came to arrest him. Hicks went without fuss. Lucien relayed the message to ensure that there was opportunity for the family to discuss everything about the business. He left them all to it and then raced home. Now, more than ever, he needed to be with his own family.

To his surprise, he came inside to find Mattie playing a game with Valerie in the parlor. They were sitting on the floor. Mattie said hello and stayed where she was. Valerie hopped up and jumped into Lucien's arms, as she always did to greet him. He greeted Mattie and then buried his face in Valerie's dark curls, kissing her and breathing her in. Lucien held his daughter tight in his arms and whispered, "I love you, darling girl. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Daddy," she answered softly, hugging him around his neck.

Lucien regained control over himself and put her back down. "You girls play your game. Is Johnny in the nursery?"

Mattie told him he was, so Lucien hurried upstairs. Johnny Blake was lying in his crib, flailing his arms and legs like he always seemed to do. Lucien picked him up and held him. Johnny reached up to grab at his father's beard, those baby fingernails scratching Lucien's lips and chin. But he paid it no mind.

"I won't let that happen to you," he murmured to his son, not bothering to explain the full tale to the baby. "I won't ever put you in that position, to save everyone from me. I will protect you. All of you. I will love you always. You're my boy, Johnny. My perfect little boy."

There was a knock on the door behind him. He turned to see Mattie tentatively coming into the nursery. "Everything alright?"

"Yes," he answered with a sigh. "This case was a bit difficult. I'm fine."

Mattie nodded. "I'm going to take the children for the night. I was going to pack Johnny's bag and bring them to mine now, if that's okay."

"Jean asked you to take them overnight?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I think she needs a bit of a break."

Lucien nodded. He didn't entirely like the idea of being in the house without the children, but he would certainly defer to Jean. Lucien kissed Johnny's cheek and handed him to Mattie, who had just slung the bag with nappies and blankets and bottles over her shoulder. "You're off then?"

"We are. And I'll call if we need anything, but I'm sure we'll be fine. My baby brother is very popular among my friends, so I'll be we spend the whole evening entertaining guests. And you know how Valerie is with new people."

He chuckled, knowing all too well how charming his daughter could be, how she stole the heart of every person she met. "You all have fun." He followed Mattie back downstairs and kissed Valerie goodbye for the night.

"Jean's in bed," Mattie told him quietly before kissing his cheek and herding the children out to her car.

Lucien waved goodbye and closed the front door. He took a moment to brace himself. If Jean had asked Mattie to take the children to hers for the night, something must be very off indeed. It was one thing to ask for some help here at the house. But to ask for Johnny and Valerie to be out of the house altogether? That was a level that Lucien wasn't quite prepared for.

He made his way upstairs, trying to plan what he might say or do in order to help his wife. Hesitantly, he knocked on the bedroom door and opened it slowly. "Jean, darling?" he called out softly. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, save for the lamp on the bedside table.

"Come in, Lucien. Has Mattie taken the children?" Jean asked him.

"Yes, she…" His words caught in his throat as soon as he walked into the room and saw the sight before him.

Jean was lying on top of their bed, propped up by the pillows, entirely naked. "How's your case going?" she asked conversationally.

His mind had turned to sludge. His mouth wouldn't move. All he could do was stare at her. Her long, lean legs. Her enticing hips. Her slightly rounded stomach. Her trim waist. Her full breasts. Her elegant, pale neck. And best of all, her beautiful smiling face. Jean was smiling. She was naked and she was smiling. "Jean," he croaked out.

"I take it you made the arrest?"

He nodded dumbly.

Her smile widened. "Good. Nothing to distract you. And no children to interrupt us or to require us to stay quiet. We have all night just to ourselves."

Lucien's whole being then went into overdrive. He kicked out of his shoes and tore off his jacket and practically dove onto the bed beside her. He pulled Jean into his arms and kissed her hungrily. She moaned into his mouth and clung to the back of his neck to hold him against her. The taste of her tongue was an exquisite drug that enflamed his whole body.

Jean reveled in her effect on her husband. She was old and tired and barely clinging to sanity most days, now. But Lucien still wanted her. This gorgeous man, so virile and attractive and strong and kind, somehow wanted her. She loved him more than she could ever possibly say, and being in his arms like this was like coming home. Like they'd been journeying through the desert and finally found their way to sanctuary within each other.

As Lucien's ardent kisses moved down her neck, Jean tangled her fingers in his hair. She didn't like the touch of Brylcreem, but the more she mussed his hair, the more his natural curls broke free. Both their children had inherited his thick, curly hair, and she loved it.

"Oh, I've missed you," she moaned, gasping as his teeth grazed over her throat.

Her words suddenly reminded him of the thing they'd just discussed only two days before. This was their first amorous moment in months. And Lucien was pawing at her as though she hadn't been ravaged by traumatic childbirth and life-saving surgery and crippling depression these last four months. He sprung off her. "Oh, Jean, I'm sorry," he said, panting.

But Jean would have none of that. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Lucien," she scolded. She rolled over and straddled his hips so she could undress him. As she loosened his tie and undid the buttons on his shirt, Jean could feel his growing hardness against her thigh. With a cheeky smile, she wiggled her hips on top of him and was rewarded with a throaty groan.

"Jean, please."

"You don't need to beg," she teased. His shirt was open and she pushed her hands under his vest to feel his hard muscles beneath her touch. She leaned in to kiss him again. But he kept his arms at his sides. She sat up again and frowned. "Lucien?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he confessed. "I…forgot myself for a moment."

"You're not going to hurt me," she insisted. "I may be exhausted half the time, but I'm not right now. And I'm not sad right now, either. I'm still disappointed I missed our anniversary, and I want to make up for it. I just want things to go back to normal, back to when you weren't afraid to touch me, back to when I was whole and you wanted me."

Lucien sat up and flipped them over so quickly, Jean let out a surprised yelp. He hovered over her and gave her a searing kiss. "I will always want you," he growled, kissing her again, hard. They were both breathing heavily and he made his way down her body. "You have never been less than whole," he insisted, switching to gentle, soft kisses down her chest and over her breasts. She was quite sensitive there, from breastfeeding the baby, so he did not linger in his attentions for too long. "And I am not afraid to touch you," Lucien whispered against her stomach. He traced the line of her surgery scar with his lips, sanctifying the healed skin over the cut he made and the stitches he had sewn. "I only want to bring you pleasure. I only want to love you."

Jean whimpered to feel his hot breath against the dark curls between her legs. Her body shivered as the wetness pooled there, begging for his touch. "Please, Lucien," she breathed.

His lips mouth was gentler than he had often been in the past. Slower and more deliberate. He was still being careful with her, but it had been quite a long time. And every single swipe of his tongue over her folds felt absolutely incredible. The gradual buildup was sweet and beautiful in every way. Though, she noticed, Lucien couldn't keep himself too controlled, the way his fingers gripped her thighs.

She was right on the edge when she stopped him, giving his hair a little pull. He lifted his head to look up at her in question. His mouth was shining from being coated in her wetness. "Please," she said. "Together."

Lucien nodded and climbed off the bed for just a moment, removing the rest of his clothes. Jean's legs were spread wide open to cradle his body as he crawled back on top of her. He lined himself up at her entrance, barely nudging himself shallowly inside her. But that wasn't what Jean wanted. She wanted him. All of him. Now.

Using more strength than she thought she could manage, Jean sat up and grabbed her husband's hip, pulling him inside her sharply. She gasped and fell back onto the bed when he was fully sheathed inside her. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and dug her heel into the small of his back as she canted her hips to adjust and pull him deeper. She could barely breathe, she felt so good. "Lucien," she whined.

He started to move inside her. Slowly, still. But deeper than she could ever recall him being. Lucien was starting to sweat from the effort. It had been far too long, and she felt so good, fluttering around his length. He couldn't hold back much longer. Lucien had his eyes shut tight, trying to keep in control. When he opened his eyes, he saw his Jean gazing up at him with her turquoise eyes dark with lust, shining bright with passion.

"I love you," she breathed. And within a few strokes, she came undone around him, moaning and gasping his name, her eyes still fixated on his.

He came while she was still clenching and pulsing around him, practically roaring her name with the force of his orgasm. Lucien let himself gently collapse on top of her. He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving the warm embrace of her body just yet.

Jean's fingers traced the lines of the scars on his back as she continued to keep her legs wrapped around his body. This feeling of heavy limbs and being pressed into the mattress by the weight of his body and the satisfying fullness of having him still and nestled inside her, this was what she had missed. This was the part of their marriage that had been absent these long months. Jean was under no illusion that one good shag would cure her of whatever had been ailing her since Johnny's birth, but this was the first time since the moment she felt those too-early contractions that she felt at peace and like herself.

Lucien stirred and pulled out of her, rolling over onto his back. He pulled her against him in a tight embrace. "I love you, Jean. I love you more than words."

She kissed his bare chest and hummed in agreement. She didn't have any words for him now, could not seem to find voice to tell him how she felt. For the ties that bound them together did not necessitate words. Here in the darkness of their bedroom, wrapped in each other's arms, Jean and Lucien reveled in the quiet love they shared.


End file.
